Footballers have a rough deal, don’t they? It is easy to look at them with a hint of green as they go to “work” for a few hours a day and reap their vast rewards. But there is a line that you don’t cross … well, at least one you shouldn’t cross. And it is increasingly being pushed on the terraces of England.
Week in and week out, we see opposition players being taunted by fans. Mostly it is random banter: Frank Lampard is fat, Wayne Rooney is ugly, Arsene Wenger looks like Mr Burns from The Simpsons. You know, normal everyday stuff that you could hear in the bus or on a school playground.
But then it turns ugly, with unprintable insults hurled at the aforementioned, well-heeled gentlemen. Their wives, their girlfriends — or boyfriends — and even their kids are used as targets for cheap taunts. Where does it end? Well, unless you are Eric Cantona and take matters into your own hands — or should that be size 10 metal studs — the players usually soak it up and hope to goodness they can score and “stick it” to the baying mob.
But like Mr Cantona, the modern footballer can only take so much. Take one Didier Drogba, a fine specimen of a centre forward; strong, fast, skilled and blessed with the ability to dive like those damn Chinese at the Beijing Olympics. I mean, really perfect arched back and pointed toes stuff. The man is wasted on a soccer field. Well, you see, Mr Drogba had some trouble the other week. He scored a fine goal and, whilst celebrating, some spineless twat threw a coin at him.
That someone had the nerve to throw hard-earned cash in these tough times is another matter altogether, especially when it had to be a pound coin to get anywhere — and that’s at least R16, which is a Streetwise Two, by the way! Anyway, when it hit Mr Drogba, I half expected him to tumble as if a sniper from the Secret Service had just tagged him. But no, the old dog had had enough. He picked it up, gave a most unbecoming, yet sweetly appropriate middle finger, and then hurled the offending coin back to the masses.
Cue chaos, and half the press of England baying for Drogba to be fined, suspended and just about everything else short of being stoned, but not in pound coins, of course. And what of the peanut-brained twerp who started the madness? Well, he goes home to tell the other Neanderthals that he got Drogba in trouble — and got away with it. How? Why? Eish.
With the amount of technology in the game, surely a super-slomo/ zoom/ Hawkeye can catch the plonker in the act and get him banned for life. The whole world is quick to throw the book at Drogba who, admittedly, acted with the maturity of an angry two-year-old at a birthday party, but what of the faceless cowards who are eroding the game with their filthy songs, cowardly stunts and generally foul demeanour? For all their money and their fame, footballers are merely doing a job.
Let’s face it; if someone threw a coin at me while I was working, I would throw the phone, the pen and the PC if I could! Why? Because we are humans and we are born to react. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but mindless idiots don’t make good spectators either. And, ultimately, that is all they are there to do. Support and encourage their team. As soon as that line is crossed, I don’t think you can hold someone like Mr Drogba wholly responsible.
The authorities should be doing much more about this. I say use the gigantic fine that Drogba pays as the funds to track back to the time when the coin was thrown. Zoom in on the necessary stand and nab that idiot. Then, put him on a stage, and perhaps get the Wags to each have a go throwing their 10-inch heels, non-stain lip-gloss and leftover silicone at him. That ought to teach him a thing or two.
And the sooner that happens, the sooner we can get back to watching Drogba and company perfecting their tumble routines ahead of the 2012 London Games.
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